Don wasn’t answering the phone again, and Eliad slammed down the receiver after seven rings. If Don wanted to play games—he could go right ahead. But he’d have to find someone else to play with. Why was he taking personal offense for Sol? And how did he dare go and blame his roommate for it?

The lawsuit was being filed by the army, not the soldiers who had been harmed. Don had been questioned once, but was then let go. Sol, by contrast, was deep in hot water. Two hearings had already taken place, and the prosecutor had succeeded in locating three other people who had been harmed by Sol’s fake creams. Reb Eliyahu, his brother-in-law Gavriel’s rabbi, was dealing with one of the claims. His cousin had lost four toes because of one of Sol’s products.

Sol wasn’t being sued now for the forgery, because he already produced the creams under his own name, but rather for producing and distributing medical products in violation of pharmaceutical regulations. And since the minute the lawsuit had gotten rolling, Don had been stubbornly ignoring his and Eliad’s friendship. Aside from that first visit, when Dr. Lorenstein had given him a dressing down and taught him a thing or two about how to speak to other people, as Elia had put it, Don hadn’t visited again, nor had he picked up the phone and called like Eliad’s other friends had. He hadn’t even sent regards—nothing. Eliad was ready to shrug off the whole friendship; it wasn’t like he’d gotten all that much out of it anyway, and he would manage just fine without Don.

Actually, Reb Eliyahu had called him yesterday to ask how he was doing and had described the hearing from the day before. He related that Sol had been asked to describe how he prepared his “wonder-working” creams. Keep Reading…

Shevi opened the door and entered the house; signs of the housewife’s exhaustion were apparent in every corner. The chairs were in disarray, a towel was tossed on the floor, both sinks were piled high with dishes, and a phone book was open on the table that was strewn with crumbs. With a tired sigh, she closed the book and sought the dishrag. She had no energy to do much now, but Gavriel would be back in a few minutes from his mother’s with Miri, and at the very least, he could come home to a clean table, if not a whole supper.

Baruch Hashem, Eliad’s condition had improved drastically, and the doctors expected to release him at the beginning of next week. But it was no wonder she was tired. Since Monday, when Elinor had called in a panic, Shevi had hardly been home, spending most of her time with her family at the hospital, next to Eliad. They had even seen Gavriel’s rabbi, Reb Eliyahu, twice over there.

“You’re very family-minded,” her mother-in-law had remarked to her recently, and it was impossible to discern from her tone if it was criticism or a compliment. Gavriel’s mother had really been very helpful. This was the third time she’d offered to watch Miri during this chaotic period.

Shevi bustled around quickly. As she put up a pot of water on the stove for pasta and lit the gas, the phone rang. It was Gavriel’s mother.

“Gabi just left,” she said. “His father’s bringing him.” She paused, as though waiting for a reaction of some kind.

“Thank you so much,” Shevi said warmly.

“Oh, it’s fine. Listen, Shevi, I asked him if you spoke to your neighbor about what I’d asked, and he said he had no idea. Did you do it yet?” Keep Reading…

Zevi climbed the familiar stairs, but before he had even managed to knock, the door was pulled open and two little figures hurled themselves at him.

“Zevi!” Shloimy howled. “Ima! Zevi’s here! Savta! Zevi’s here! Abba! Zevi’s here!”

His mother came out of the kitchen and began hovering around him, like she usually did. His brothers danced around him happily, and he tried to smile at them all despite his exhaustion.

“How was it, Zevi’le?” his mother asked when things had calmed down a bit and the younger children had decided that they had seen enough of him. Savta had gone to lie down before lunch, and he and Ima were left alone in the kitchen.

“It was very nice,” Zevi said, leaning back in his chair. He couldn’t deny the fact that he had enjoyed himself, despite all the arguments he’d had with Yehuda. He smiled and drank the rest of the contents of his glass. Now he had an opportunity that he did not know when he would have again. It was just him and Ima, and Yehuda’s words were fresh enough in his mind so that he could repeat them as they had been said. True, he did not agree with Yehuda one hundred percent, but that was exactly why it would be a good idea to first hear what his mother had to say about it. He wondered if Abba had told Ima about the guy who had been following him. Then again, that was really unrelated to this conversation. Keep Reading…

Libby turned out to be a very entertaining child, who talked most of the time, spent a small amount of time wandering around curiously, and spent an even tinier amount of time listening to Chasida talk. Even then, she usually had a quick answer on the tip of her tongue for whatever Chasida said.

“This store is cute,” she said seriously. “But I think it’s a bit boring. Tell me, don’t you get bored from it?”

“Sometimes,” Chasida conceded. “When there are no customers. But when the store is busy, I don’t have a minute to be bored.”

“Well, I see that now there are no customers, right? If I wasn’t here, you’d probably be very bored. How much time could you be in one place without talking to a single person?”

“When you get used to it, lots of time.” Keep Reading…

As soon as the lunchtime break arrived, Yerachmiel hurried to the room where the hot water urn was set up, to prepare himself some coffee. He didn’t usually leave his campers right at the beginning of the break, but his thirst was stronger than his willpower. No, he wasn’t worried. He didn’t suspect that the old side effect from the operation was coming back to haunt him. It was simply that it was a quarter to two and he still hadn’t put a thing in his mouth that day, not even a drink of water. So it was no wonder he was thirsty.

He opened the refrigerator and took out the milk, trying to focus his thoughts on his campers and the big quiz coming up for them—anything so as not to think of the conversation with Mrs. Kurzman. He wasn’t being particularly successful at it, but at least the sharp, tangible pain was dissipating a little with each minute that passed since the phone call.

“Yerachmiel, would you mind making me a cup, too?” It was Ephraim, one of the younger counselors. Yerachmiel had liked his cheerful smile from the first time he had met him at the counselors’ meeting.

“Sure,” he said. “Let me just finish drinking mine. I haven’t eaten a thing today.”

“What’s with you—I was kidding!” Ephraim said as he opened the fridge. “Since when do I drink coffee? Where’s the Coke? Who finished it?” Keep Reading…

Shevi’s fists were clenched. Small beads of sweat glistened on her skin and she quietly whispered chapters of Tehillim. What had happened to Eliad? Why had the hospital summoned them with such urgency? To…say goodbye, chalilah? From her perch on the back seat, she glanced at Reb Eliyahu’s hands on the wheel. She didn’t know what the speedometer said, but she had a feeling that the car was traveling fast, very fast.

Eliyahu was talking to Gavriel. “A sting?” he asked as he overtook a gas truck.

“That’s how it started,” Gavriel replied. “But it seems to have gotten much more complicated than a simple sting.”

“Yes, but what kind of sting was it?”

Gavriel turned his mouth down in response.

“The head, you said?”

“Near the eye. I think they’re afraid for his vision.”

Eliyahu murmured something, and then glanced in the rearview mirror. He wrinkled his forehead, and then dialed a number on his cellular keypad affixed near the wheel. Three long rings cut through the silence in the car before someone answered.

“Hello, Rabbi Eliyahu!” a voice boomed through the line.

“Hi, Arthur. What are you doing now?”

“Me? I just came up from the hotel dining room and I’m planning to take a nap. Why?”

“I have other plans for you.” Keep Reading…

Eliyahu and Chavi sat down to a quick breakfast. The children, surprisingly enough, were busy with a quiet game, and their parents took advantage of the unexpected reprieve, knowing it would be over almost before it started. Yesterday, after Eliyahu had returned from Bnei Brak, they had gone on a planned trip with the kids and had returned late in the evening, too exhausted for a serious conversation. Only now did Eliyahu have the time to tell his wife some more details about his meeting with Chanoch and Shoshi.

“So, what do you say?” he asked as he reached for the milk. Chavi hadn’t seen him speaking so calmly about the greater Dresnick family for a very long time.

“It sounds like a good start,” she said. “What did you decide?”

“That we’ll speak again. They’ll be in touch with me.” He put the milk back in the middle of the table. “They don’t object to me paying for Zevi’s operation, even though Chanoch made it clear that they’ve heard that this type of surgery does not have high success rates. That’s why they never made any special efforts to raise the money they don’t have.”

He fell silent for a minute, sipping from his mug. Chavi gathered the plates, and then heard him add suddenly, “The court convicted the manufacturer for faking the cream, but not for causing damage to Zevi. The doctors at Tel Hashomer weren’t one hundred percent sure that the cream had caused the gangrene, but Chanoch told me that the family is positive that’s what it was. Anyway, the drug company that sued the forger got what they wanted, but the Blochs didn’t get a penny.” He passed a hand over his forehead. “For years they’ve been saving for rehabilitative treatment, but it’s been slow-going. They have accumulated something, and I understand from Chanoch that Shoshi would want very much to try and treat the foot despite the low chances.”

“Ima!” Libby catapulted into the kitchen, followed by a handful of her sweaty and dusty siblings; there was no sign of the clean clothes that Chavi had dressed them in a mere hour earlier. “When are we going to Saba Beer Sheva already?” Keep Reading…

“It’s true that I invited you to give you a dressing down, so to speak,” Yehuda admitted, “but that was not the only reason. I really was looking for a friend to come here with me. Clear so far?”

“Let’s say.”

“And I don’t think there’s any reason to pity you, particularly. Okay,” he said when he saw Zevi’s grimace. “I imagine that you’ve experienced some tough stuff, but overall you are, baruch Hashem, healthy, and I don’t think that your foot gives you a lot of problems in your day-to-day life.”

Zevi peeked at Yehuda’s face out of the corner of his eye as they walked side by side through the pathways of the moshav. They took care to keep their voices low. Here and there, they heard an isolated moo from a cow suffering insomnia, and there was a chill in the air. Zevi shivered for a second, although he didn’t know why. He wasn’t cold.

“It’s not as simple as you think,” he said finally. “Doesn’t give me problems? I wish. You try to live with the constant pressure that people shouldn’t see your foot, and you’ll realize how complicated it is. My feet have to be covered all the time. I never go to the beach, and there is no such thing as slippers, even at home—as long as my little brothers and sisters are up.”

“I didn’t think for a second that it was a simple thing,” Yehuda agreed. “Didn’t I see how pressured you were in yeshivah? But I said that it isn’t the foot that’s causing the problem.”

“So what is?” Zevi stopped, discovering that they had reached a stone bus shelter. He entered, without saying a word, and sat down on the stone bench adorned with black scribbles. Yehuda sat down beside him.

“You,” Yehuda said simply.

“Me?” Keep Reading…

“What is this all about?” Eliad wrinkled his nose at the big box that Don seemed to pull out of nowhere.

“Something natural,” his friend announced and opened the cover. “As natural as could be. Where do you think I disappeared to these past two hours? I took a little trip to Kfar Yona, to Sol. He sent you this.” In the dark, Don’s eyes looked unnaturally large. “For everyone, really,” he added. “If you want. Lots of people are very pleased with the things that Sol mixes together himself.” Several pairs of eyes rested on the container of translucent white cream in the box. Its color was not uniform.

“It looks gross.” Eliad wrinkled his nose again. “What are those white blobs?”

“And the odor…” Nat said, turning his head to the side. “What is it, exactly? Skunk spray mixed with sour milk?”

“I’d rather keep scratching and not throw up,” someone else joked. “Really, Don, what is this stuff?”

“No problem.” Don smiled nonchalantly and closed the box. “Go and smear Vaseline. Good night, ‘Liad.” It was clear that he was deeply offended.

“Hold it a minute.” Eliad’s tone was contrite. “Don’t run away. What is this cream? Maybe you can explain a bit more about it to us?”

“Sol has a line of products that he makes at home.” Don spoke slowly, as if his listeners were slow to comprehend. “It’s a mixture of herbs that needs to be under the effect of the moon’s rays for a certain amount of time. It’s excellent for small lacerations and localized irritations. I don’t know exactly, but I’m planning to study under him after the army.”

“Cream with an odor from a guy who mixes them under the moon’s rays…” Tzachi muttered. “So, who’s smearing first?”

“Ha, ha,” Don replied. “Get to the point. Does anyone want?”

“Me,” Eliad hurried to say. He couldn’t offend Don too much, and besides, perhaps Sol’s cream was worth something. He had to check it out; in the worst case, if it didn’t do any good, it wouldn’t do any harm.

Anyone passing the group in the next few minutes would have laughed at the strange scene. The boys all stood silently, pressing tissues soaked with the white substance to the affected patches of skin. Don stood in the center, waiting for reactions. He wasn’t tense; he trusted Sol enough to know that his cream had to help. Eliad would also have to admit this time that Sol knew what he was doing.

“Wow!” one of the boys said suddenly. “Amazing!” Keep Reading…

Now, fourteen years later, Eliyahu watched as Chanoch and Shoshi approached. He stood up straight from the wall he’d been leaning against and walked toward them. His steps were confident, his hand outstretched to Chanoch. Shoshi hung back and observed the exchange of half smiles and handshakes between the two men, followed by the inevitable awkward silence.

“Shall we sit?” Eliyahu asked, motioning to some armchairs in the lobby.

“Good idea,” Chanoch agreed and fell in step beside him. Shoshi followed behind them. The carpet that swallowed their footfalls contributed to the loaded silence.

They took their places, the silence broken only for a moment by the rustle of the threesome settling into the chairs, before once again enveloping them as before

Eliyahu leaned back, knowing that they were both waiting for him to speak. This was it. The time had come.

“I wanted to speak to you about Zevi.” His expression was serious, far more so than Shoshi ever remembered seeing it. “You haven’t heard from me all these years, because I didn’t know what…”—he hesitated for a moment—“what actually happened to him. I thought there was no permanent damage from that incident, but recently…” He paused again.

From her place in an armchair off to the side, Shoshi observed him. He had definitely filled out over the years, and was significantly heavier than she remembered him. That, together with his longer beard and more serious features, made him look more mature than the last time she had seen him. She wondered what Chavi looked like today. She and Chanoch probably didn’t look the same as the last time Eliyahu had seen them, either. When had that been? She couldn’t remember. The two men spoke in low voices, and she observed them from the side, feeling detached. Keep Reading…